Episode 5

Chapter 005

And every Blacksteel cub inside turned toward Simon at once.

For one insane second, the training wing went silent.

Six juveniles stood in separated lanes, smaller than Eleven, all black ears, pale muzzles, and furious eyes. Each lane had the same polymer wall. Each wall had the same low impact scars. Each mineral tray sat full behind locked mesh.

The facility had not been training them.

It had been teaching them to fail.

The Index opened like a blade.

[Observed fault pattern: repeated.]

[Copy scaffold compatible.]

[Warning: group transfer may exceed host tolerance.]

Pain flashed behind Simon's eyes before he accepted anything. A preview. A threat.

No, he thought.

Eleven felt it through the bond and stopped half a step ahead of him.

Maya caught Simon's arm. "Do not use whatever you used yesterday."

Lydia's bodycam light blinked blue. "That sounded medically specific."

"It was spiritually specific," Simon said.

The facility supervisor snapped, "Security, remove them."

The nearest guard moved.

Eleven turned his head.

The guard stopped.

Smart man.

Simon lifted the clearance file. "Commission intake audit. Active safety concern. Locked minerals, repeated impact injuries, and live juveniles in distress."

"They are not distressed," the supervisor said.

One cub hit the wall. Too early. Dead-weight impact. Shoulder stumble.

The sound answered for him.

Maya stepped into the aisle, voice sharp enough to cut wire. "Open the mineral trays."

"Those are controlled rewards."

"They're unreachable props."

Lydia tapped her tablet. "Statement recorded."

The supervisor's face changed. "You cannot alter training conditions during an audit."

"Correct," Simon said. "Facility staff must do it."

He pointed at the latch. "Open lane one. Put the brick on the approved tray. No commands from your handlers."

"And let your cub contaminate the test?"

Simon looked at the bodycam, then back at him. "You just admitted your test can be contaminated by proper access to food."

For a moment, no one moved.

Then Lydia said, "Open the lane."

The supervisor hated her. He opened it anyway.

The first juvenile lunged for the mineral brick, but stopped when Eleven stepped between it and the wall.

Eleven did not growl.

He demonstrated.

Step. Breathe. Turn. Impact.

His forelimb darkened at the last instant. The wall rang clean.

The little cub stared.

Simon crouched outside the lane, medical band pulsing red. "You don't need to hit sooner. You need to hit later."

The cub looked at him.

Then at Eleven.

Eleven huffed once, impatient.

The cub copied the step.

Awful form. Too much shoulder. Fear all through it.

But the hardening came a fraction later.

The wall did not crack.

It did not need to.

The cub did not fall.

The room changed.

One by one, the other juveniles pressed toward their lane gates, not screaming now. Watching.

Maya's eyes were bright with anger. "They were never temperament failures."

"Some were," Simon said. "Being trapped makes most things worse."

The supervisor reached for his radio again. Lydia's voice stopped him.

"If that call is to suspend records, I advise against it."

"This is private property."

"Under Commission contract."

"You people are destroying months of work."

Simon stood too quickly and nearly paid for it. The room tilted. Eleven leaned against his leg, bracing him without looking away from the lanes.

"Your work produced an eighteen percent pass rate," Simon said. "A trainee with a medical restriction and one angry cub improved the pattern in six minutes. If I were you, I would aim for silence."

The supervisor's mouth shut.

Good.

Silence suited him.

The task file on Lydia's tablet refreshed.

BAMBOO FACILITY INTAKE AUDIT

STATUS: SAFETY HOLD

HANDLER OBSERVATION ACCEPTED

PAYMENT: RELEASED PENDING COMMISSION REVIEW

FEED CREDIT: APPROVED

Simon's own badge chimed.

500 COMMONWEALTH MARKS: PENDING

BLACKSTEEL FEED CREDIT: ACTIVE

LIMITED STARTER-BOND STATUS: MAINTAINED

Five hundred marks.

Feed credit.

Time, food, and legal standing. Three things he had not owned yesterday.

The feed credit mattered most. Marks could vanish into fees before Simon ever touched them. Feed credit became minerals, recovery mix, safe training hours, and one less excuse for someone to call Eleven a cost center.

It also made the next mistake harder for anyone else to price as waste.

That was leverage.

Eleven felt his reaction and gave a satisfied rumble.

Maya opened lane two under Lydia's recording. This time, the cub waited for Eleven's demonstration before moving.

No Index transfer.

No miracle.

Just one corrected beast showing five others that the wall had been lying.

By noon, Commission responders had sealed the training wing. The supervisor sat in the intake hall with his access badge confiscated and his smile gone.

One responder reviewed the first wall-strike footage, then the facility's last thirty days of failure reports. The numbers lined up too neatly: early hardening, shoulder strain, temperament mark, transfer recommendation. Different cubs. Same mistake. Same invoice path.

"This is not a training variance," Maya said.

The responder did not argue. That was the best kind of apology an institution knew how to give.

Eleven sat in the aisle with three younger cubs pressed near their lane gates, all pretending they were not watching him. He lifted one paw, demonstrated the turn again, and looked deeply burdened by amateurs.

Simon felt pride through the bond-space.

Not soft pride.

More like: finally, witnesses.

Lydia signed the task closure. "You realize this footage will trigger review."

"Facility review?"

"Facility, transfer desk, buyer objection, and your bond file."

"That sounds like a lot of people discovering paperwork has teeth."

Maya handed Simon a printed arena notice.

PLAINFORD CONTROLLED STARTER ASSESSMENT

ELIGIBLE: SIMON VALE / ELEVEN

PURPOSE: VERIFY LIMITED BOND STABILITY

TIME: 16:00 TODAY